


Marvel Imagines / One shots

by ProfessionalAsshole



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Marvel Universe, Reader-Insert, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalAsshole/pseuds/ProfessionalAsshole
Summary: A collection of imagines / one shots (can be multiple parts). Infinity War broke me, so here we are.Requests are open.





	1. tony - cheating

“Y/n –”

 

“No,” you say harshly, storming around the king-sized bed. You throw a pile of clothes into a bag, not caring what goes into it. You just need it to last a night or two. “No.” It comes out softer this time, and you can feel you knees threatening to buckle, your composure slipping. “Till death do us part, Tony. That's what _you_ said.”

 

“To be fair, I never actually signed any –”

 

“It doesn't matter! You _promised_.” Your voice breaks, because you can't believe this is happening to you. Again.

 

Tony is silent. He looks to the door, and for one horrifying second you think he might actually leave. He runs his hand against the back of his neck, shaking his head and then laughing at himself. You know all of Tony's ticks by now: that's what he does when he's feeling guilt. And self-loathing. Which, to be honest, is most of the time. “It was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything.”

 

“No, Tony. You're wrong.” You fight to finish the sentence through your tears, through the growing ache in your chest. A lacy pair of undergarments (the one you had been planning to wear for Tony on your anniversary) hang limply from your fingers. “It meant _everything_.”

 

You can both feel the words hanging there, suspended in the air. They suffocate you, clouding you. He knows what it meant – he knows. He just doesn't want to admit it.

 

“Y/n … Please, I … I lo –”

 

“Don't,” you growl, turning around and throwing the pair of panties into the trash. _Where they belong_ you think. “Don't you dare say you love me. If you did, you wouldn't have shoved your tongue down some other woman's throat.” Tony cringes at your words. You can see him folding in on himself, closing you off. _Good. This is good_ , you tell yourself. “Or you would have at least had the decency to dump me beforehand.”

 

Tony's mouth parts, and he looks stricken. Like you've slapped him. “I don't – God, I don't want to dump you, I want to be with you.”

 

“Then _why_?” You know your sobbing through your words. You don't particularly care.

 

Tony doesn't respond. The silence is deafening.

 

“I'm leaving tonight,” you say, slinging the bag across your shoulders and heading for the door.

 

“No, no no no no.” Tony blocks your path, hands on your shoulders. You feel yourself tense under his touch, and from the expression on his face, he felt it too. “Just – please, just listen to me.”

 

You can feel his eyes boring into your own, but you can't bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you look at the lamp on your bedside table. _His_ , you remind yourself sharply. You don't share this room anymore.

 

“Y/n,” Tony says desperately, hands tightening on your shoulders. “Please, just look at me.”

 

“I can't,” you breathe. “Every time I look at you, I feel sick.”

 

Tony visibly deflates. It starts with his hands, as they loosen their grip on your shoulders, and then fall to his sides all together. Then his own shoulder slump forward, and his eyes cast downwards to his feet. You want to feel satisfied that maybe, just maybe, you've hurt him a fraction as deep as he hurt you. But all you feel is empty.

 

“Good-bye, Tony,” you whisper. He doesn't try to stop you as you step around him, walk out the door, and close it behind you. He doesn't stop you as you jog towards the entrance of the Avengers Facility. He doesn't stop you as your knees buckle, and you fall against the side of the building, trying desperately to get your breathing under control. You've been living here for three years, and dating Tony for half of that. This was your home. _Was_. You really had nowhere else to go, but you knew you couldn't stay here. Not with everyone asking questions, and Tony looking at you the way he was when you told him it was over.

 

Some small part of you thought he might follow you, and get you to stay. You thought maybe he would fight for you.

 

You were wrong.


	2. steve - rebel

“She's unstable, volatile, and doesn't work with the team.” 

“And you're telling me this because …”

Steve blinked. “She stole SHIELD equipment, and ran off in an unauthorized quinjet to Germany.” Just the mere thought of her doing something so reckless was enough to make his jaw work. God, she was such an annoyance. 

“You make it sound like she's just a teenager who ran away on spring break, Cap.” Tony eyed Steve in that calculating way of his. “She took down one of the highest ranking generals in Hydra.” 

“And got shot twice in the process.” He still remembered when she called him in the middle of the night, barely able to talk through the blood bubbling up her throat. He was going to make sure nothing like that ever happened to her again. And if removing her from the team was the only way … “She doesn't listen to orders. Tony, she doesn't have what it takes to be an Avenger. I don't think she should even be a SHIELD agent.” 

“Well, then.” Steve felt his insides go frigid at the sound of her voice. “I suppose it's always better to hear the truth, isn't it, Captain.” 

He didn't want to turn and look at her, but knew that he had to. He hadn't seen y/n since he had carried her from that quinjet, barely alive, covered in her own blood. That image of her had been burned into his brain. 

“Y/n …” Steve began as he turned to look at her. She was still wearing her medical gown, leaning against a doorway with her arms crossed (she was always leaning against things). Steve ignored the way his stomach twisted at the bruises colouring the skin around her eyes, and the bandages covering her arms. Y/n had been to hell and back over the last three days, yet she still, somehow, intimidated even him. Captain America. She didn't need to be able to wield a blade; her piercing gaze was enough to make him feel as though he'd been run through. “I'm … I'm just –”

“Just what, exactly?” Y/n pushed off the wall with a grimace Steve almost didn't catch. “Are you jealous, Captain?” 

“Hardly.”

“Look,” said Tony, starting to back away from Steve and y/n. “I'd love nothing more than to watch your little … pissing contest, but I have better things to do.” 

Y/n never broke eye contact as she nodded, ever slowly, to Tony, before sidling up to Steve. Somehow, even though he was at least a foot taller than her, she looked down her nose at him with eyes of pure flame. They always got into this. This silent battle of wills. 

Y/n was, shockingly, the first to break. “I'm not a child.” 

“Then stop acting like one,” Steve snapped at her without missing a beat. Y/n scoffed, placing one hand on her hip. 

“You know, Captain, you're the one throwing a tantrum over the fact that I took down the general who evaded you for months.” She was close to him now; he could feel her breath barely brushing his lips. If he tilted his head forward just a few inches, their lips would touch, and Steve – who cursed himself silently – felt himself go red. “Maybe you should reconsider who's really being the child.” Her words were biting. She said them with sweetness but they were laced with something darker, something poisonous. 

“Maybe you should reconsider your position in SHIELD and on this team, because I swear to God, the next time you pull a stunt like that –”

Y/n ripped herself away from Steve with a snarl. “You don't control me. You can't. And I swear to God, if you threaten my position here one more time, I'll make your life so miserable that you'll want to leave.”

With that, she sauntered off. Steve, even through his haze of pure rage at her hotheadedness, couldn't help but notice the way her hips swayed through her gown. He hated her. He truly, irrevocably, hated her. But what he hated more was the worry that plagued him in her presence, how he braced himself for an oncoming storm that he couldn't see, but rather felt. He couldn't shake the feeling that y/n was going to get herself killed, and, in doing so, take a piece of him with her that he couldn't bear to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a request for the next chapter!


	3. steve - rebel (part 2)

Y/n was fuming with unconcealed rage as she dragged herself back to the lab, where Bruce had requested she returned for a follow up on her gunshot wounds. The absolute nerve of that man. The Captain. He definitely had an intense superiority complex that he used to shield himself. She felt like she had been banging on it with broken nails and bloodied fists for months, and he still didn't listen to her. He didn't even want to listen, seemed inclined to only think of her as some bratty little child. What did it matter if she was reckless? Sometimes, being reckless was what it took to get things done. And besides, she had survived. Her wounds would only take another day or two to heal, but then she would be fine. No scars would taint her body, only her mind. And she could conceal those scars just fine.   
“Y/n, how are you feeling?” Bruce. His graying hair was messy, as it always was after a day in the lab.   
Y/n was already lifting her shirt up as she sat on the iron medical table. “Fine. Let's just get this over with, Doc.”   
Bruce's fingertips grazed the skin of her lower abdomen, just above her hipbone. “Sorry about this,” he mumbled, eyes flickering away from her own. She knew Bruce was shy, and, truth be told, she found it kind of cute. Most men took what they wanted and damned the consequences, but Bruce … he was kind. Perhaps too kind for y/n.   
“S'fine,” she said, leaning away from him slightly. Bruce pushed up his glasses as he stood.   
“You're healing well,” Bruce mumbled, running a hand through his hair and, in the process, tousling it up even further. “Just come back tomorrow for one more follow up, and you'll be good as new.”   
“I think I'll take a rain check on that, Doc,” Y/n said as she lowered her shirt and stood. “I've got things to do, enemies to kill. You know how it goes.”   
Bruce smiled. Barely. Y/n took it as a victory all the same. “Sure, sure. You still need to pop in though. Captain's orders.”   
Y/n felt her oncoming smile come to a screeching halt. “What did you just say?”   
“Listen, y/n, I know you two don't really get along, but –”  
“Don't get along? He hates me! Bruce, he tried to kick me off the team.”   
Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. So this was unusual for Cap.   
“Oh,” Bruce replied lamely.   
“Yeah. So, forgive me, but I'm not following his orders. Not anymore. See you later, Bruce.”   
Bruce opened his mouth to object, but Y/n was out the door before he could say anything to stop her.   
She didn't understand the Captain. Sometimes when he looked at her, she could have sworn she saw affection in those blue eyes. But then, other times, they lit up with a hatred Y/n had only experienced in her enemies. So what did that make him? A friend, or a foe? Y/n supposed he toed the line of both. It drove her mad, not knowing what was going on inside his head. Most people were easy to read, like Tony Stark. That man's emotions showed like a damn beacon: impossible to miss, and even more impossible to ignore. But with Steve … she didn't have a clue. And it was maddening. And the fact that it maddened her made it even more maddening.   
By the time Y/n was in her own room within the Avengers Headquarters, she knew there was absolutely no way she would be able to sleep. Not when she felt the pain of the bullet going clean through her every time she closed her eyes, and heard Steve's panicked voice through her comm. Not when she felt herself dying again and again and again –  
A walk. She would simply take a walk. Nothing would go wrong, she would just do a lap of the building, and then come back, and go to sleep.   
It would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I know it's been forever since I've updated but I'm finally started to get inspiration to write fanfic again. So, here we are. I'm also really liking the chemistry with steve and Y/n in the rebel series, so expect many more parts in that series.


	4. peter parker - hero

You've always loved ferries.   
There was just something about the wind running it's wild fingers through your hair, water blowing a biting mist onto your cheeks, and the sheer openness that you couldn't get enough of. It was times like that when anything felt possible.   
Which was why you had skipped school to make the ferry at eleven. If you were being honest with yourself, you were running away. Like a damn coward.   
Your moms new boyfriend was a tool, and from the way he was looking at you, leering … you knew you had to leave. Had to take care of yourself. Because if that man wanted to try something, which you were sure he would eventually, you knew your mom wouldn't do anything to stop him. After your father was killed in the Battle of New York, she'd become someone else entirely. You barely recognized her in the husk of a person wearing your mom's skin. So, yes. You were running. But, really, you had no other choice. And the ferry was a perfect escape.   
Or, at least, it would have been.   
You'd seen heroes before. On your phone, or on TV. You had even seen Iron Man once before, in New York. After a chitari had torn out your dads throat. You were laying beside him, trying to stop the bleeding. Not caring that more chitari were coming. The blood was everywhere; you never know how much blood the human body can hold until you see it. The red liquid was coating your hands, a sensation you swore you could still feel in your nightmares, and was spreading out around your dad's corpse. A halo of blood.   
Iron Man had flown over you, blasting the few chitari that had surrounded you and your dad. And then he was gone. No words of consolation. No attempt at saving your dads life. You weren't stupid. You knew he left to save those who weren't already on the brink of death. And yet … You had never really been able to forgive him. Them. You knew it wasn't their fault, not like with Ultron and Sokovia. But you couldn't shake the betrayal you had felt when you'd seen him, the man you had looked up to your entire life, watch you fall apart beside your dead father, and leave.   
Eight years later, you still hadn't found it within yourself to forgive. Or forget. So, imagine your surprise when, on the exact day you chose you leave all of that behind, Spider-Man shows up. In all of his spandex glory.   
And where a hero goes, death follows.   
“The other guy was way better with that thing!”   
The voice had come from your left. And it sounded … young. Too young, to have people's lives weighing on those shoulders.   
“I'm … I'm shocked!”   
You turned, just in time for a man to push you against the ferry railing. “FBI!” The unmistakable sound of guns being loaded sounded. You pressed yourself further against the railing, inching away from whatever fight was about to go down.   
God, how had you ended up in this situation again?   
“No, no, no, no, no. Get out of the way!”   
The FBI agents weren't listening, their guns trained on … you had no idea what that was. You felt your entire body tense up in fear when you initially glimpsed it and thought it was a chitari, but … No, this was a man. A man with giant, metal wings sprouting out from his back.   
A blast sounded, and you threw your hands up to block your face.   
“You're messing with things you don't understand!”   
Spider-Man was trying to web up some sort of weapon the winged-man had tossed onto the ferry.   
You though he said a response, but you could barely hear it over the ringing. The loud pitch that was becoming unbearable.   
There was something else. A voice, calling out. “Mommy?”   
You scanned your surroundings, looking for – there. The girl was directly in the line of fire, clinging to the ferry railing.  
Before you knew what your body was doing, before you even had the chance to think twice about it, you were running across the balcony, straight for that little girl.   
“Stop!”   
Just as you had reached the screaming girl, putting your arms around her and using your body to shield her from the oncoming blasts, the world shattered.   
Your body was on fire, every single nerve, every single cell, screaming in agony.   
You held on tight to the girl, until your body went slack, and you fell to the floor.   
“No, no, oh god, please don't be dead, please.”   
“Pete, get out of the way!”  
Cold, hard arms went around you. And the last thing you saw before everything went dark was that little girl, a women who you could only assume was her mother, lifting her into her arms and crying with joy.   
But then everything went cold. And dark. And you couldn't see or feel anything beyond pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment your requests below! I need inspiration my dudes ;)


	5. steve - flower talk

You stared at the wedding invitation in your hand, before promptly spitting on it and ripping it in half. A couple that happened to walk by at that exact moment gave you a particularly nasty look, so you decided sticking your tongue out at them was the best response. Damn happy couples and their stupid hand holding and cute loving looks. They could go straight to hell for all you cared.   
A small flower shop was on the same street you were storming down. It'd have to do. As you opened the door a bell chimed your entry rather cheerily. You held down your disgust.   
The smell was intoxicating, but you barely noticed it as you strode into the shop and slammed a twenty dollar bill on the front counter.   
“How do I passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in flower?”   
Heads turned to look at you in horror, and you decided to stick your tongue out at them to. Damn the consequences, you were tired of judgmental assholes.   
“Language,” said a voice from behind you. You flipped them off over your shoulder, even though you couldn't see them.   
The lady at the front counter seemed to be holding back a smile with difficulty. She was unnaturally pretty, with rosy-red hair and full lips.   
“Well, that's quite a demanding request. I think I'll have to get the best of the best to help you,” she said. “Steve, could you come over here a sec?”   
You waited, tapping your foot restlessly. The shredded wedding invitation was still clenched in your fist.   
“What can I do for you?” a voice asked from behind you. Startled, you turned around. And froze.   
He was… Well, he was fucking gorgeous, to put it lightly. Tousled golden hair, baby-blue eyes, and abs you could see through his shirt. You resisted the urge to poke them to see if they felt as rock hard as they looked. Was everyone who worked here just drop-dead sexy?   
“I-I… Um…” You could barely string a single sentence together in his presence. God, where did all that bravado you had earlier disappear to?   
He simply smiled at you, a smile that made you weak in the knees. Because, dimples.   
Oh, hell.   
This probably happened to him all the time. You were just another sad bimbo in his eyes.   
You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders. Pull it together, Y/N.  
“Look, your request was pretty specific. Why don't I take you into the back and show you some of my ideas?”   
You just nodded. Idiot.   
“So, what kind of 'fuck you' are you going for?” He asked you as you strode down isles upon isles of different types of flowers.   
“Hmm, lets see… 'Rot in hell you dirty, disloyal, adulterous whore' pretty much sums it up.” Well, that earned you a slightly surprised smile. You ignored the way his upturned lips made your stomach flip. God, his lips.   
“Okay, okay, I think I see where your going with this.”   
You turned down the isle with hundreds of orange coloured flowers.   
“Now, as you may or may not know, the orange blossom means purity and loveliness. And red, of course, is the universal colour of love.”   
You made gagging noises while he talked.   
“Asphodels are a good choice. They mean 'my regrets will follow you to the grave'.”   
That peaked your interest. “I like the sound of that.”   
Eventually you settled on a bouquet that, despite yourself, was beautiful. And deceptive. At least you avoided the flower that meant 'death to your first born child'. Steve said that was going too far. He instead offered you one that apparently meant 'a promise of eternal genital lice', but you thought he was just saying that to make you feel better. Despite yourself, it was working.   
“If you don't mind me asking, what did this guy do to you that was so bad?” Steve asked after refusing to let you pay for the flowers. Ever the gentlemen. Disgusting. Also cute. But mostly disgusting.   
“Do you want the long version or the short version?”   
“I've got nothing but time. Well, except the job I have to get back to.” He smiled. Damn him.   
You laughed. “Short version it is, then.”   
Steve looked at you expectantly with wide blue eyes.   
“So there was this girl,” you began. Steve's eyes widened even further. “I loved her, thought she loved me back. I've never been too good at relationships. People say I have commitment issues, something about my divorced parents and unreliable dad, but, anyways,” Steve smiled at you, and you caught yourself stumbling. You had to look somewhere else besides his gorgeous face (and body), so you looked at the torn wedding invitation in your hand. “I didn't want to live together. She said it was fine, but the woman I found in her bed a few days later had to disagree.” You laughed brokenly, voice wavering. “Fast forward three years later, and I get this in the mail.” You held up the destroyed letter in you hand, a few bits of paper floating down to the floor. “An invitation to their wedding.”   
Steve's eyes closed, slowly.   
“God, that's …”   
“Yeah, but their engagement isn't even the worst part.”   
He looked at you expectantly. You couldn't help but think he resembled a puppy, with those blue eyes.   
“The worst part, is that I don't even have a date.” You laughed hoarsely. “There's nothing more embarrassing then showing up to your ex's wedding alone.” You looked down, staring at your feet, the shredded invitation: anything but Steve's face that you knew would be filled with pity.   
“I don't mean to be forward,” Steve began. Something soft brushed against your chin, forcing you to look up. “But, if you want – I mean, you can say no, I won't be offended …”   
“Steve?”   
You had never seen something so cute. He was stumbled over his words, and god … You wanted to jump on him right then and there.   
“If you have no one else to go with, then … I'd be happy to take you.”   
“I …” You couldn't help the giant smile from forming. “I would love that. But, we should probably go on a few dates first.”   
“Does tonight work? I get off at five.”   
You couldn't believe that this man was actually asking you out. You meant it as a joke, but … Perhaps this was how you could heal. With this sweet, kind, selfless man. Perhaps it would be good for you … to finally let yourself try again.   
“Five definitely works for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof this is a bad one. Don't hate me, I started losing inspiration at the end but tried to push through.


	6. loki - trouble

"Be nice!"

"I am!" 

"You threatened him with a knife." 

"Well, yeah, but I didn't stab him."

When Steve had told you that you would be supervising Loki on your next mission, you knew that could only mean trouble. 

The mission had been going well. At the very least, as well as it could have. You'd been on your way out of the HYDRA facility after downloading an array of files onto a flash drive for SHIELD, when everything went wrong. 

Before you could even hatch out a plan of escape, you were both surrounded. At least ten guards were pointing loaded guns right at you. Loki wanted to kill all of them, but you were the one of the only agents at SHIELD that tried to get your missions accomplished without killing people. You just had to convince him. Which, evidently, was proving to be very difficult. 

"Can't you just hit him with your knife?" You hiss, pressing your back against Loki's. 

"I believe the technical term is stab." 

"LOWER YOUR WEAPONS!" 

You make an exasperated sound, rubbing at your temples to ease your throbbing headache. "What is with you and stabbing people?" Loki's feral grin grows (if even possible), and you swear if you weren't surrounded by people who wanted you dead, you would have kicked him in the throat. God or not. "If you haven't noticed, we're supposed to be partners. That means I'm responsible for anyone you decide to kill." 

"PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND WE WON'T SHOOT!" 

Loki turns to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling. 

He's enjoying this. 

"They're our enemies. Therefor, I think it's perfectly justified that we kill them togeth-"

"Having the same enemy doesn't make us friends." 

For a moment, Loki looks away. Almost as if your words actually made him feel something. But his face smoothes over within seconds, and you think you must have imagined it. "Besides, do I look like a killer to you?" 

"I SAID, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!" 

"Yes, a killer of my patience."

You want to scream. But instead you hear Loki shout, "Now!" 

You were waiting for it, an opening. The fact that Loki spotted it before you makes you see red as you kick the leg out from under one of the HYDRA agents, already moving to slam your fist into the nose of another. 

You barely feel your body moving; everything is muscle memory and survival instincts from your years of training with SHIELD. And Loki, though you hate to admit it, happens to be a rather skilled fighter himself. 

"That's five in less than a minute," Loki grins at you triumphantly once you've both taken down all of the HYDRA agents. 

You try and fail to keep yourself from smiling back at him as you sprint towards the entrance in the lobby, where a van waits a few blocks away to bring you to safety. "I win. I took down six." 

You see Loki roll his eyes, and your chest fills with satisfaction. It feels good, to annoy him, to get under his skin. 

"Does that mean I just beat a god?" 

Loki opens his mouth to say something - probably a sarcastic retort about how meager your mortal fighting skills are compared to his - when you hear the unmistakable click of a gun being loaded. You turn, just in time to see who you thought was simply a lowly secretary point her gun directly at Loki. 

Before you can even consider the fact that a bullet has no quarrel with a god, the fact that Loki could probably just deflect it with his magic, you throw him out of the way. Which puts you directly in the line of fire. 

The first bullet hits you in your lower left abdomen, and the pain is... shocking. You'd been sheared by bullets before, but never directly shot. And it burns. The pain explodes down your side, and you sway, hand drifting to the wound. 

Everything slows. You see Loki stumble and catch himself, whipping around, and you're just standing there, suspended in time. Loki's eyes fall to the wound in your abdomen, his breath visibly catching. 

"No," you think you hear him breathe. 

The second bullet goes straight through your shoulder, the blunt force of it knocking you back. 

The world tilts. 

Someone - Loki - sweeps you up into their arms. Your head bounces against his chest; he's running. Through your haze of pain, you see the dead body of the secretary get farther and farther away, blood gushing from her throat. 

Wet rasps leave your lips. There's a horrible tangy taste in your mouth, a taste that continues to bubble up your throat. And you're cold. So cold, you've begun to shake. You're dying. You've seen enough people bleed out before your very eyes to know the process. 

"Loki..." 

"Shhhh." 

The bouncing stops, and you feel your body being gently laid down onto a hard surface. 

"Drive!" Loki hisses at the agent who escorted you here. The van begins to move, and Loki crouches before you. His hand drifts to your face, almost as if he wishes to hold it, but then he takes it back. He shakes his head, as though scolding himself. 

"I- I don't..." You try to speak through the blood in your throat, but all that comes out are wet gasps. 

Loki leans over you, but doesn't touch you. As though it would pain him to. Burn him, perhaps. 

"Don't try to talk. Just keep breathing." He says, voice devoid of emotion. 

"I guess..." It takes you a few tries to get the words out. "I guess you were right. Us mortals really are good for nothing." 

Loki almost smiles. Almost. But then you cough, blood spurting, and his expression becomes passive once more. He turns to the driver. 

"How much longer?" 

"We're here, sir." 

Loki breathes a sigh of relief. "Perhaps," he says, opening the car doors and hoisting you out. "But you've always been good at proving me wrong." 

 

 

(Part 2 coming soon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I haven’t updated this is a while.


	7. peter parker - enemies

"It isn't right." 

"Like hell it is. Have you seen the news? What people are saying about us? Mr Stark says the only way we can continue is if we sign-" 

You slammed your locker shut, turning to face Peter. "I don't give a shit what Mr Stark says. He's made mistakes, Peter. Many mistakes. Have you completely forgotten about Sokovia?" Peter opened his mouth to object, but you cut him off, voice rising. "Why are you so determined to blindly follow a man you just met?" 

Peter's eyes flashed. "I could say the same to you about Steve Rogers." 

You weren't sure how it had happened, this rift between the two of you. In your mind, it was simple: Cap thought with his head. He always had, because that's what soldiers do. That's what Steve was trained to do, all those years ago. And Tony, while you respected the man (and had come to like him, despite only meeting him once before), only thought with his heart. He always let things become too emotional, too personal. His actions were fueled by guilt. And when it came to The Accords... you knew Cap was right. You couldn't just sign yourself off. 

The thing was, Peter didn't seem to agree. "This is the way we do things now, unless you want to get put in a cell like some common criminal." 

"Is that what I am to you now?" you spoke, perhaps a little too loudly. Teenagers at their own lockers cast curious glances your way. "A criminal? A threat? We're friends, Peter. Don't make me your enemy." 

Peter's face went slack, eyes glacial; cold. Colder than you had ever seen them in your three years of friendship. He was the only person who knew who you really were, and what you could do. He was the only one you felt completely safe with. And now, despite how hard you tried to grasp and hold on to that comfort, that sense of home, you were losing him. All because of some stupid piece of paper you refused to sign. "You've already made that choice for me," Peter said, his words slicing you right down the middle. 

"So that's it?" You croaked, your backpack a dead weigh in your hand. The halls were now empty; everyone else had already left for the day. Peter's answering silence turned your heart to stone. Without him, you trusted no one. You had no one. You were completely, and utterly, alone. "Well, then," you choked, blinking away the burning in your eyes. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. "I suppose I'll see you on the battlefield, Parker. You'll finally be the hero you've always wanted to be," you spat, slinging your bag across your shoulders and stalking towards the exit. You kicked the doors open, yearning to go home to. . . what? An empty apartment where the echo of your lost parents still lingered? You didn't have a home. Not anymore. Not without Peter. Because, despite how hard you had dug your heels in, despite the voice screeching at you to never trust him, never tell him, never show him, you had. And now you were paying handsomely for it. 

You halted, half-turning to face Peter, and look him directly in the eyes as you said, "I hope it was worth it." 

Ripping you gaze away from his own fierce one, you slammed the school doors shut. You were long gone before Peter said to himself softly, "So do I." 

 

(Part 2 coming soon)

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened. I finally cracked. Infinity War broke me, and here we are.


End file.
